


Survivor's Guilt

by 127s



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: 127 and dream (but 127 are coming later), A Lot of Death, Alternate Universe - Idols, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Cussing, Death, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Survival, Violence, Zombies, everybody cares park jisung, if you are looking for anything wholesome this is not the fic for you, lazily edited, like super heavy angst, more tags to come, ongoing, slowburn chenji, who put the kpop boys in a zombie apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:22:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27034876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/127s/pseuds/127s
Summary: Why did it have to be him?Why did it have to be Park Jisung?He didn't earn this, he didn't want this.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Kim Jungwoo, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee, Na Jaemin/Park Jisung, Park Jisung/Zhong Chen Le
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> please check the tags and warnings before reading!! this fic is a zombie apocalypse au, and will contain plenty of mentions and descriptions of violence and death, (and anything else to come) so please do not read further if you're sensitive to such!! <3

Why did it have to be him?

Why did it have to be Park Jisung?

He didn't earn this, he didn't want this. 

Jisung exhales, and in a moment of something, —anger, frustation, agony, he doesn't have a clue— he throws a long empty can of food to the side. He'd been examining it for a while, the words printed on the can, long lasting and nutritional, it promised.

He watches the can roll itself off of the sidewalk he sits at. It makes noise, but not enough for him to care. It rolls along the road, until it comes to a pathetic stop amongst a pile of litter. Months old newspaper, cardboard, viciously torn packaging of something. 

Jisung is left to stare at it in silence.

He'd stare at anything. Anything that isn't the blood on his hands. On his clothes. The bloodied fingerprints on his cheeks. In his hair. 

**DAY ONE.**

"Give me that."

Jaemin raises an eyebrow, like Jisung had proposed something amusing. "And why should I?"

Jisung hits Jaemin in the arm, playful and delicate. "Because it's my phone!"

"True," The older nods, holding the device firmer in his grip. In the moment it takes to resume speaking, a smile spreads across his lips. "But I just think our maknae should be spending time with his favourite hyung— rather than playing some stupid game, don't you?" He teases.

Jisung finds himself smiling too, but he brushes it off with a shake of his head. "Come on," He complains. 

Before he can say much more of an argument, both are interrupted with a staff member calling for Jaemin to get his makeup done. 

Jaemin sighs in a dramatic manner, while the younger smirks triumphantly as the phone is returned to him. Jisung leans back into the rather uncomfortable couch of the waiting room, reopening the game he'd been busying his mind with, resuming it with a simple tap of his screen.

He does, however, spare a glance towards where Jaemin now sat, having taken the place of where Jeno had been just a moment earlier. 

Though he easily regains his concentration on the game, Jisung still feels eager with anticipation to move, to perform. His attention on the screen is undivided for a few minutes, before he takes notice of Mark on the other side of the room, seeming to be arguing, or something of the sort, with their manager. He's about to question it, when Chenle is suddenly sitting beside him, asking something about the level of the game Jisung's on.

Jisung shows Chenle, and by the time he looks back, the conversation is long over, their manager now busy on a phone call and Mark out of sight. 

He figures it's nothing, Mark's been on edge lately anyway, and returns to the game once more.

Jaemin finishes up with his makeup and returns to his seat, on the opposite side of Jisung. This time though, he doesn't bother the younger, and instead busies himself on his own phone.

It's a while before any of them speak up, all occupying themselves.

"Woah, have you seen the news?"

Jisung looks up. "What do you mean?"

"Show is cancelled," Mark interrupts, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. "Get your stuff. We're leaving." 

"Cancelled? But they don't—" Chenle speaks up, and Mark just shakes his head. 

"Come on," The oldest continues. "Now."

It's a firmness that Jisung barely recognises from Mark, the leadership he's often reluctant to show. He knows sudden cancellations like this always put the group in a bad mood to some extent, but there's something else, something more to it.

"Okay." Jaemin nods, standing, lightly pushing Jisung to do the same.

Jisung does as he's told, slowly brings himself to a standing position, tugging Chenle along with him. Something doesn't feel right. 

Several staff rush in and out of the room, members sometimes following, sometimes lingering.

Everything seems to move in a blur. Renjun and Donghyuck enter, ushered by their manager, clearly having been halfway through getting ready themselves, the members move around retrieving their belongings, muttering to each other.

The seven are then hurried out all at once, and an overwhelming realisation hits Jisung as soon as they enter the hallway that it isn't _just_ them in the midst of leaving.

There's people in every direction, hurrying and talking. Idols with half of their makeup done, others with tears in their eyes, their managers and staff yelling into phones pressed to their ear and demanding for others to move.

An anxiousness settles at Jisung's chest in an instant, and he reaches for Jaemin, finds a grip at the older's arm and clings to it like his life depends on it.

He's never been the fondest of crowds of people, ironically enough with his choice of career, but most of the time he can deal with it, or at least try to. But it feels different here, where everyone is with a sense of urgency and panic. He knows something is going on, but he doesn't know what, and it adds to the overwhelmingness of it all—

They move through the hallway, led by their manager, who's saying something to Mark that Jisung can't hear. Occasionally, people push past, running, panicking, and just as they're nearing the exit, there's a sickening scream from the direction they'd came from. It makes everyone move faster.

It's a rush of moving to their car, a habitual arrangement for everyone to take their usual seats, and when Jisung hears the last door come to a close, and everybody relax into their seats, he can't help but exhale a breath of relief.

"What the fuck is going on?" Jeno demands from the seat in front of Jisung.

"We don't know, okay?!" Mark answers immediately. "We just need to—"

" _You_ just need to calm down, Mark," Renjun counters, with an accusing point of his finger. 

"Renjun," Donghyuck exhales from beside Jisung, nearest the window.

"I am!" Mark runs a hand through his hair. "It's—"

"The news," Jaemin interrupts. "It's on the news, social media, everything— Something broke out in the city, people are sick and violent, I don't know."

The car falls silent at Jaemin's words. Jisung had kept his gaze focused on their manager, watching the man start the car, begin to drive under a faux calmness. "We just need to get you to your dorms. You'll be fine there." He finally speaks up, and brings a reassurance over the group, one that keeps the silence lingering.

For a few moments, Jisung still watches the steering wheel, the sharp navigation of it by the man, before he looks to his own hands. He hadn't realised they were shaking. Fingers still littered with rings, ready for the performance. He looks to Chenle instead, the other on the opposite side of himself. He's looking out of the window, so Jisung can simply watch him, examine the features of his face. 

He doesn't want to think about anything else, not whatevers going on, not the impending second wave of an argument, not just how fast the car was going by now. But his stare can't help but drift to outside, to the buildings and people they pass. The panic is out there too. In glimpses, he sees people running, people shoving possessions into cars. The roads are busy, and seem to get busier every minute.

"Shit." Jisung hears, and it takes him a moment to register it's from Mark. He blinks a few times, realising how intensely he's been staring outside.

The car slows, and Jisung looks out through the front this time, where he sees a seemingly endless line of traffic, intimidating red lights awaiting them.

"Go the other way," Donghyuck suggests. "With the bridge. It shouldn't be as bad." 

Jisung can see Mark nod in agreement, and say something else, though it's under his breath, only loud enough for their manager to hear.

They make an abrupt turn, and for a while they're just driving again, no one showing any desire to say anything. It would have been calm, hadn't it been for the circumstance, and the increasing speed of the car once more.

"We should slow down." Jisung says, but it comes out as a mumble, one that only Chenle hears. 

As if intentionally, he swears the car only gets faster, but still, no one says anything. He straightens in his seat. "Hey—"

"That car!"

It all happens at once. A swerve, a jolt so harsh that it feels like it takes all of the air from Jisung's lungs, sends everyone to the side. A deafening crash. A long, drawn out beep. A crushing feeling atop of him and at his sides, sounds of pain, of terror.

When his eyes open, there's nothing but a blur to greet him. There's glass between his fingers when he tries to move them. The sensation of metal against him. His head pounds. There's sirens, screaming, a low-flying helicopter somewhere. 

There's a drowsy sensation over him, like he's half-awake after a long night of sleep. But he knows to move. A door of the car is against him, one from the passenger sides, and he can move it aside with somewhat of an ease, start to push himself out of the overturned vehicle. Glass crunches beneath him, digs into his skin. He doesn't think anythings hurt, broken— but his body is numb with shock, and he feels like he could fall apart.

"Jisung?"

"Chenle." He whispers in relief, and his hand finds the other's, he's pulled further.

He falls onto the harshness of the road, the palms of his hands firm against it.

Chenle helps him stand, and he feels another set of hands, Jaemin's, he identifies. 

He sees everyone but Donghyuck. 

"Jisung, don't look," He hears in a whisper.

Jisung doesn't listen.

The car is worse than any wrecks he's seen in films. Almost completely flipped over, every window shattered. Collided with a building, littered with misplaced bricks. 

And there's blood.

Blood, lively streaks decorating the driver's seat, the road. 

Blood that leads to a body.

Their manager.

"We need to go, we need to go."

Jisung feels like he can't look away. He's never seen so much blood. At his neck, his stomach, his hands. But he knows it isn't all from the crash. Renjun is standing by the body, unmoving. Just staring.

"But Donghyuck—" Jeno's voice comes from nearby.

He can't breathe. There's an overwhelming emptiness in his chest, the sight is there even when he closes his eyes. His head still pounds. 

"We'll die if we stay here!" He hears Mark's voice next, louder, urgent.

There's people, running in every direction. Out of buildings, into them. None of them take notice of the group until Mark yells.

A few of them seem to start to approach. But they're not screaming, not panicked like everyone else. 

People are sick and violent, he remembers Jaemin saying.

He can't make out much. Just figures approaching. Running.

"Hyung," He says, not knowing who he's calling for. 

Three of them. They're making noise, almost growling, running towards them. They're people, but not people. People with blood and torn skin staining their teeth, their mouths and chins, darkening their clothes.

He almost stumbles, but Chenle grabs a hold of his arm in time.

"Go, fuck— Go! Now!" 

They're running too, the six of them.

He doesn't have the time to think about Donghyuck.

Jaemin is slower, he's limping, injured from the wreck, Jisung figures. He can't help but slow himself. 

They're not far from the dorms. They can make it.

One of them is faster than Jaemin. 

It gets him, tackles him so quickly Jisung almost misses the sight of it. He stops.

Older than them, a man probably around the age of their manager. How old he had been at least. A buisnessman, rich and successful, Jisung imagines from the teared and bloodied suit. A man with a wife and children, a nice house.

He pushes Jaemin flat against the ground, arms flailing against the instinctive defences of his. When it fails, the man— the _thing_ resorts to desperately leaning forward, baring teeth ready to bite. 

"Jisung, go—" Jaemin tells him, struggling beneath him. The other's have slowed, stopped.

There's a sickening growl from the creature, and Jisung is frozen for a moment, before he drops down. All at once, Jeno is beside him.

"I'll keep the others off, get him out!" It's Mark, behind them now.

"No! No, just—"

"Shut up, Jaemin!" Jeno argues, and with one heave, manages to pull the snarling, bloody man off of Jaemin, a grip half at his clothing, half at his neck. Jisung takes shaky hands to help Jaemin up, everything feel like a mess of blurred movements and panic.

"Go! Go!" Mark is yelling, and they're all running again. Jaemin's limp is worse, but this time Jeno and Jisung take an arm each, slinging them over their shoulders and guiding him as quickly as possible. Renjun and Chenle lead them, and Mark stays trailing behind.

Jisung knows he shouldn't, but he keeps his eyes on the ground, focuses only on moving, on helping Jaemin do the same. 

With every street they enter, every corner they turn into, there's people. People screaming— in pain and terror. People being forced to the ground, attacked. Car wrecks that aren't theirs, bodies in the seats, on the road.

He's walked the streets a million times, but it feels foreign and faraway from home.

He doesn't look up until the dorms are in sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've rewritten this chapter about three times over like four months and i'm still not completely satisfied with it, but here it is regardless because i'm super excited to get this started!! i very rarely write chapter fics so this is fairly new to me, but i'll try my very best to keep it updated regularly!! <3


	2. Chapter 2

There's a mess of heavy breathing, rushed movements and bickering. The door slams to a shut, and Mark leans against it, looks to the ceiling.

The sun was gone by the time they got back.

Jisung's at the kitchen counter, trying to focus on his breathing, exhaling, inhaling.

Chenle is beside him, a hand at his back. He'd started to trace circles.

"The calls— nothing will go through. I can't get through to anyone." Renjun says, and Jisung can hear a sigh in return.

"Keep trying." Mark offers.

"Maybe things will work out by the morning," Jeno suggests. "We should just— just clean ourselves up, eat, get rest—"

"How can we eat and rest after seeing that?" Chenle speaks up, and Jisung squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn't want them argue again. "We don't even know where Donghyuck hyung is."

"We're in no shape to go searching. Not out there," Jeno answers firmly. "We just need to keep trying to reach him, any of the hyungs."

Jaemin had brought his attention to the television, and Jisung could hear flickers of brief emergency news reports, instructions.

"Yeah, okay," He hears Renjun exhale. "I'll keep calling." The older wandered away, presumably to search for any kind of phone signal.

There's a few moments of incoherent noise from the TV, before Jaemin abruptly turns it off. Footsteps follow.

"Jisung." He hears from Jaemin, but in the moment has no desire to reply.

"Jisung," The older repeats, and Jisung notices his voice isn't like he's used to hearing it, uneven and shaky. "I need to talk to you." 

Jisung looks up at that. He glances to Chenle— knows the other is thinking, contemplating Jaemin's words, why he needed to talk to Jisung. There's unsureness to him, and the youngest knows he wants to say something about it. 

Jaemin beats either of them to it. "It can't wait."

The words bring a fresh wave of anxiousness over Jisung. For a moment, his fingers grip the smoothness of the kitchen counter before he nods in agreement.

There's visible relief on the older's expression, and a wordless indication for Jisung to follow to their room. 

Jisung lingers a moment, gives Chenle a look that says he'll be back soon, almost apologetically, then follows in the direction Jaemin had left to.

He knows the room, the dorm in general, should give him a sense of safety, that at least not being out _there_ should make him appreciate the familiarity of the place he knows better than any, but there's something about it making it feel just as terrifying. A sense of temporariness.

Jaemin closes the door after him the moment he enters. The room is fairly dark, but neither move to turn on a light.

"I need you to promise that you'll keep this quiet." The blonde says, and Jisung just frowns. He notices he's pale.

"Hyung," He mutters, moving to sit at the edge of his bed. Something about standing feels exhausting. "Now isn't the time to be keeping secrets—"

Jaemin sits too, besides Jisung. "I need you to promise me." He repeats, with something else Jisung can't place in his tone.

Jisung just watches him. Looks into his eyes. He sees the sincerity, the need for the promise. "Okay." It's all he can find himself saying.

Jaemin takes both of Jisung's hands, and Jisung looks at them, at the gentle touches Jaemin offers. His hands feel warm. The other entangles their fingers, caresses the side of Jisung's hand with his thumb. "You know— the man that attacked me, he was sick, right?"

Jisung looks up abruptly at this, lets their eyes meet again. What did that have to do with this? He gives a slow nod. "Yeah." He feels Jaemin's grip at his hands become tighter, and for several seconds it stays like that, in an intimate silence, before Jaemin slips one of his hands away. Though one still holds Jisung's, the younger can't help but feel unsettled from the sudden lack of contact.

He watches as his hand moves up. Jaemin's hand settles at the collar of his shirt, and there's a moment of hesitance before he pulls the material down. It reveals a plethora of redness, of blood, and Jisung slowly registers that it's the fault of a bite below his collarbone. A harsh, solid bite. Jaemin's fingertips ghost over the wound, and when he takes them away, they're stained with a subtleness of blood.

"It bit you?" He questions. "What— We have a first aid kit in the bathroom, right? I'm sure we can—"

"Jisung," Jaemin whispers. He takes the other's hand again, squeezes it. It's his turn to not resume eye contact, and keep his gaze fixated on their shared touch. "The bite— the bite is how it spreads. It's how the infection gets you."

"No," Jisung says, like he's been asked a question. "No, it's not. Hyung, you don't know that."

"It is," Jaemin exhales, closing his eyes for a moment. "It's what they're saying on the news, on the emergency alerts. That's how you—"

"No!" Jisung stands up, moves away. Runs hands through his hair. It's wrong, he's wrong. He has to be. "You're not going to turn into one of those things, that's not how this works. That can't be how this works." His voice wavers.

Jaemin stands, following the movements Jisung made. This time, he takes Jisung's arm, gripping it so he can't move away. "Jisung, I already feel it."

Jisung doesn't know what to do say, what to do, what to think. He doesn't know when tears came to his eyes.

"So— so we wait it out. We can help you, we've taken care of each other when we were sick before."

"This is different—"

"You can't know that for sure!"

Jaemin exhales. 

Jisung searches his expression. He's desperately looking for something, for any kind of indication that things are okay. 

"Please, just wait." Jisung whispers, practically begs.

Jaemin is still for a while, then he shakes his head. "I can't," He brings a hand to Jisung's cheek, let's it rest there, keeping the eye contact between them. "I need to go."

"Go? Go," Jisung repeats in a breathy mutter. "You're just gonna leave, not even say goodbye to the others—"

"I can't." Jaemin says again.

"Then why are you telling me?" 

Jaemin smiles at that. A brief smile, a broken, uneven smile that Jisung has never seen before. "Because you're Jisung."

Jisung doesn't know what that means. He doesn't know what any of it means.

"Just give it a chance. We can help you." He pleads.

Jisung feels Jaemin's fingertips gently trace over his cheek. They're soft against his skin, delicate and cautious.

"I don't want you to remember me as sick, as— as one of those people. I just want you to remember me like this." Jaemin whispers.

"Hyung." Jisung mutters, shaking his head. He wants to say several things, but finds himself falling into silence. He knows everything he says, everything he suggests, Jaemin has an answer for.

"I need to go." He says again.

"Where?"

Jaemin sighs at that. "I'm leaving when the others are asleep." He answers instead.

"You don't have to," The younger shakes his head. "You can at least say goodbye, Jaemin. Please."

Jaemin watches Jisung. Jisung doesn't look away for even a second, holding hope that maybe he can change his mind, get him to stay. He wants something, anything of a sign.

Jaemin hesitates for nothing longer than a moment. "You should get some rest." He eventually says, and Jisung is sure he can hear the conflict in his tone.

He doesn't want to _rest,_ he doesn't want anything but for Jaemin to stay. Jaemin releases the younger, steps back and brings a hand through his hair. He lingers for a moment, before he's out of the room faster than Jisung can process. And though he only wants to follow, something tells him he shouldn't.

**DAY TWO.**

Jisung doesn't remember falling asleep. He feels stiff, he's still in the clothes from the night earlier, lying atop of the covers of his bed. Exhaustion still nags at his limbs, weighs his eyelids, and there's an ache pressing between his eyes, the light of early morning stinging.

And then he remembers, everything of the night before, everything of Jaemin. He sits up, fighting back a groan at the dull resistance of pain throughout his body. There's no one at the other bed, no one by the window of the room. An unnerving feeling settles over him, an emptiness in his chest. He'd been there, he'd heard everything that the blonde had told him, but he'd still expected it to be something else, a misunderstanding of sorts, anything. He'd expected Jaemin to still be there.

The expectation lingers as he leaves the room. He expects Jaemin to be there, fussing over breakfast for the group, trying to pick something to put on TV that he thinks everyone will like. But he's never there. For once, he's the first awake, and left pacing pointlessly for a few minutes, not sure of what to do, what to think, how to react to anything.

Habitually, he retrieves his phone, having left it at the counter the night earlier, though nothing he wants is there in wait for him when he retrieves it. No signal, three percent of battery, and only an emergency alert from the night earlier. Jisung's eye scan over it, though now it only holds information he already knows. Stay inside, await further instructions. Avoid anyone infected, anyone with a bite.

He squeezes his eyes shut after that, placing the device face down. His fingers find his temples, rubbing uncertain circles to urge the persisting headache away.

He wills himself to get up, moves to the kitchen window. There's enough light for him to make out the view outside well enough. He's not sure what he'd expected in doing it, but he finds himself surprised to see a stillness. Though the window doesn't grant him access to much of the building's surroundings, there's no movement, no people, no bodies. There's an abandoned car, one with the driver's side door left open.

"You're awake," Jisung hears, the sudden greeting making him flinch. It takes him a second to register the source. He looks over his shoulder to see Jeno, and a guilt washes over him in an instant. Jeno doesn't know. Nobody knows. 

He just nods, looking down to his hands, fingers already in an absentminded fiddling movement. 

"I'm glad you got some sleep," Jeno continues, and Jisung looks up again, watches as the older opens a cabinet, assuming he was going to get something to eat. Instead, he just looks inside of it for a while, then closes it, moving to the cabinet beside of it. Jisung realises he's counting, taking note of what they have. "That's the stuff we need to focus on, rest, eating, waiting it out— until this all clears up."

Waiting it out. The words echo in Jisung's mind. Just like he'd told Jaemin to do, to try.

He gives another pathetic nod. It's all he feels like he can manage, like words would get stuck in his throat. He turns to the window again, hoping the conversation would end with that.

Jisung fixes his gaze to the car outside. He wonders who once was in it, when it was bought. He can still hear Jeno, opening cabinets and drawers, looking through what's in them. "Jisung," Jeno says. He'd never been good with hiding things; emotions, secrets. "If you're thinking about Hyuck— I'm sure he's fine, yeah? He might turn up. He might be at the hyung's dorms, we don't know."

Jisung doesn't say anything, just stares at the car. Donghyuck, he hasn't even had a chance to process where the older is, what happened to him, why he left.

"And look, him and Mark hyung have been arguing lately, they've both been tense—"

Jisung exhales, shaky and unsure. "Jaemin was bit." He doesn't look away from the car.

He hears Jeno stop what he's doing. "What?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like this chapter much more than the first one, i hope it's decent!! :P


End file.
